


Cynosure

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cynosure, n.<br/>1. something that strongly attracts attention by its brilliance, interest, etc.</p><p>-</p><p>jonny & patrick had clicked from day one. </p><p>it's only until they start taking notice of the little things that they realize a friendship just isn't for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cynosure

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil' kazer fic. sorry if it sucks. c:

Everything had been good, normal, quiet, and sane.

 

Then, Patrick started noticing how Jonathan always flicked his wrist a certain way when brushing his hair before a press conference or team meeting. Jonathan made a note of how Patrick poured his milk before his cereal, and he never left the milk, either: he'd drink it all after eating. In the locker room, they would absentmindedly find themselves glancing in each others direction, and Jonathan thought Patrick looked adorable when he pretended not to notice the subtle eye contact. Patrick loved how Jonny blushed when he walked by in compression shorts, always taking a quick peek back to check if Patrick had been staring. He had. (That was another thing he liked about Jonny, His ass? Fatter than Kim Kardashian's).

 

Patrick adored the way his name sounded coming out of Jonny's mouth. It made goosebumps trail up and down his arms and neck. It burned the way liquor does, sliding down a sad man's throat. It made Patrick wonder. It made him want to _do_ things.

 

Jonathan doted on Patrick, the way a mother did to her child. He ruffled Patrick's sweaty, matted curls after each game. He picked up after his messes, and scolded him for being an asshole when he was. (Jonny secretly thought punks were hot, Patrick knew. He tried to be a dick sometimes just to try to turn him on).

 

Everything started seeming happy, once they found something indescribable in the other.

 

But Jonathan would never admit to Patrick the way he looked at him when he was not paying attention. Patrick couldn't tell Jonny about the dreams he'd have of the two of them, laughing like lovers, and fucking like them, too. (Patrick usually tried to suppress his wet fantasy dreams. Usually, it never worked).

 

They lived their lives like they always had been doing, besides the skinny love emanating from their friendship.

 

-

 

“Peeks, where are we going..?”

 

A drunk Patrick Kane had an equally drunk Jonathan Toews on a lasso. The younger man led his taller, darker counterpart by the hand, past sweaty party-goers and teammates alike. A crowded bar may have been the perfect place to outwardly show affection, but Jonathan honestly had no idea what was happening at the moment. Hours earlier, they had won the Stanley Cup. They had flown back to Chicago, and now all of them were beyond wasted. Life was a blur, and that blur was currently being held hostage by Patrick.

 

“Shhh.” Patrick gave Jonathan an over-the-shoulder glance; a signature smirk that he wore on his face literally all the time. Jonathan focused on not tripping over the hundreds of feet in his path as well as his own. He was suddenly jolted out of his daze when Patrick pulled him into a bathroom off to the side, quickly shutting the door behind him.

 

“Pat, wha--?”

 

Patrick shoved Jonathan hard against the wall. The force of impact almost knocked the breath out of him. Any air left in his lungs was quickly used up when Patrick slammed his lips onto Jonathan's. An involuntary moan, almost like a whimper, escaped his mouth, which made Patrick smile through the kiss and blush bright red. Patrick let his hands roam the length of Jonathan's torso as he grinded against him, rubbing his sides underneath his shirt, like this was just a casual thing they did: makeout in bathrooms, drunk as all hell.

 

Patrick then pulled away, and fervently ran his tongue over his now-swollen lips. His eyes were wild. Jonathan noticed that he was shaking. He took a second to process what had just happened.

 

“Jonny, I am so in love with you. Mostly your _huge_ ass, your quads, your thunder thighs, but also with your hands, the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, and how you bite your cheek when you're mad, and... and your cheekbones-” Jonathan shushed him. He was shaking his head rapidly, side to side, as if to deny the words coming out of Patrick's mouth.

 

“Peeks...I... I know.” He stammered. The look on Patrick's face made him rethink his choice of words. “No no no I feel the same, Pat, I do, but why are you telling me this now?”

 

“I can't take it any longer, Jon. I look at you and see a happier me. But when you call me 'buddy' in the locker room and when you punch my shoulder like a friend, it makes me want to hate you,” Patrick whined, running his hands through his hair, stepping back towards Jonathan slowly, as if to not provoke some harsh truth. He knew it was coming, though.

 

“I love you Patrick. I see the way you look at me. I feel my heart do this thing,” Jonathan's voice cracked,“it speeds up and echoes a bunch in my head...but I can't hold your hand when we practice, and I can't call you stupid pet names in front of the guys. What would they think if-”

 

“Who the hell cares?” shouted Patrick, pushing on Jonathan's chest with both of his hands.

 

“Shhh,” Jonathan knew the music in the bar was most likely too loud for anyone to come snooping around, nevertheless, he tried to get Patrick to calm down.

 

“I just want to kiss you,” Patrick whispered, tracing his finger along Jonathan's lower lip. Their eyes met: dark on light. Patrick's eyes were bloodshot, and Jonathan saw tears brimming. It hurt him.

 

“I know,” Jonathan breathed back. Patrick gazed at him through his long eyelashes, like he was some god-like spectacle. Then, they were kissing once more. This time, it felt more real to the two of them. It held the same fire, but it did not burn down cityscape or skyline; it lit a hearth, a candle, a slow-burning spark.

 

Before he knew it, Jonathan's fingers were undoing Patrick's fly, blindly, as he kept his lips focused on Patrick's stubbled jaw, and the quiet sighs coming from his lungs sounded like music to Jonathan's ears. Patrick was hard for him. Now all he needed was release.

 

Jonathan knelt down on the tile floor, bringing Patrick's jeans with him. He was wearing a pair of boxers that Jonny recognized. _Pink plaid... last year's Valentine's gift..._ Jonathan eyed the growing bulge under the cotton fabric. He looked up at Patrick's face: eager. He _knew_ this would've been the outcome, that smug bastard.

 

Patrick removed his boxers himself, backing himself up against the stone wall. Jonathan had seen Patrick's dick before, obviously. What team doesn't see each other naked? Now, he was actually doing something about it, instead of imagining this sort of thing while feeling horny at night, after Patrick left his house. 

 

Jonathan tentatively brought his hand up to his mouth and spit, then grasped the base, and he began slowly pumping. “Don't be shy, Jonny,” urged Patrick, whose eyes were half closed. Jonathan's breaths were getting heavier, more nervous, as he wrapped his lips around Patrick's head. “Ah, fuck,” Patrick murmured, laying his hand on the back of Jonathan's neck, his fingers playing with his dark hair. Shivers ran up and down his spine at Patrick's soft touch. He began to get more comfortable, letting his hands move to grasp the back of Patrick's thighs. His lips tightened against Patrick. Jonathan took one hand back and steadied his dick so he was able to graze the underside with his tongue.

 

“I love you so much,” Patrick groaned, massaging the back of Jonny's neck with his thumb. 

 

Jonathan moaned softly in response, and the vibrations made Patrick ball his free hand up in frustration. “Fuck, Jonny.  _Ughhhh_ , fuck this is so hot.” 

 

Jonathan's eyes were closed. He was acting on pure instinct alone. So many nights he'd imagined this, shamefully yet mildly turned on, and now he had the pleasure of actually sucking Patrick off.  _Dream come true._ He thought of all the girls dying to get such a chance.  _Joke's on them_ , he laughed in his head.

 

Just then, a noise came from the direction of the door. He barely heard a voice over how loud the music was, but Jonathan recognized it.

 

“Seeeeaaabs, you in here?” The sound of heavy shuffling was followed by a loud burp. _Duncs._

 

Patrick was right on the verge of cumming in Jonathan's mouth when he pulled away. A very drunk Duncan Keith rounded the corner and Jonny leaped to his feet, leaving Patrick's half-naked ass against the wall. For a moment, Duncan looked quite confused and a little stupid, standing there in front of them, holding a bottle of Corona. “Uhhhh...” Jonathan didn't let him say anything else. “Duncs, Seabs was out there lookin' for you, right out there, okay?” Jonathan led him by the arm, a little too harshly, and pushed him back out the door. He looked for a lock once Duncan was gone. He made sure it was turned before walking back to Patrick, who had pulled his pants back up and was now re-clasping his belt.

 

Jonathan paced around in front of him. Patrick was quiet, and his face was grave, despite tonight being almost a dream come true for him. He knew what Jonny was thinking. He knew it bothered him, and that was the one thing that annoyed Patrick: Jonny cared too much. He cared too much about what people thought, and how they reacted, even in a day and age like this. Jonny, seemingly perfect, a flawless example of a purebred Canadian, had the lowest self-esteem, the lowest opinion of himself. Patrick often did not know how to respond to it. He usually just got mad. Not at Jonny, but at his opinion of himself. Jonny was Jonny, and Jonny was enough for him, but nothing he did could ever be enough for himself, and everything he did, he worried about.

 

“There's no way he didn't see that. No way. What the fuck happens if he says something, or.. or someone else—”

 

Patrick pressed a finger against Jonny's lips. They were still full... _wet_. He gulped before speaking, trying not to sound upset due to the fact that he had just been gypped out of an orgasm. “Shut up, Jon. For God's sake, just shut your goddamned mouth.” Jonathan could see the hollowness in Patrick's eyes. Mere minutes ago, those eyes had been smiling.

 

An almost-growl edged the last of Patrick's words, and he stormed out of the bathroom, unlocking the door and slamming it behind him, leaving Jonathan standing amidst the stalls alone. He pressed his fingers to his temples. His head pounded, and the effect of the alcohol he had been drinking was just now starting to wear off, subsiding into a massive headache he knew would be worse in the morning.

 

He was half-tempted to follow Patrick, but right now, he didn't feel like having anything to do with him.

 

–

 

They hadn't spoken in a good 3 weeks.

 

Jonny went home to Winnipeg, and he was enjoying the off-season, surprisingly. For him, the off-season was usually an excuse to eat more than chicken, rice, and veggies, but this year felt different. He was welcomed back enormously. There were parties, a parade, a host of other activities he attended. He brought the Stanley Cup back with him, and had an even better time with all the young ones down at the local rink. And yet, his summer was starting to get boring.

 

He missed Patrick. He _missed_ him, and when he thought of him, it hurt like hell.

 

Patrick, on the other hand, tried to fill the void in his heart. He sometimes longed for Jonny, and his mind often drifted to that night in the bar, but he replaced his feelings by sleeping around with random people, and by staying up late each night drinking Red Bull and playing Xbox.

 

It was Patrick, of course, who took the initiative. Sex with a stranger was nothing compared to Jonny. He picked up his phone and opened Jonny's message thread on a whim.

 

He began typing. He didn't really know what he planned on saying.

 

**Hey jon. hows summer treating u? I miss u.**

 

Patrick set his phone down, but it buzzed as soon as it left his hand. He checked his messages.

 

**Hi. Summer's great, u?**

 

_Wow, that asshole has the nerve to totally disregard my sentiment._ Patrick grunted in frustration. He honestly hadn't thought that Jonny would reply. Where did he go from here? Should he ask one of his sisters for help?  _No, what the fuck, I'm not in 6 th grade. Man up._

 

**listen, r u mad at me for leaving? Because I wasnt mad at u, jon.**

 

Patrick felt his heart well up. “Ugh,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. The glow of his TV illuminated his face. He had been straining his eyes all day on some stupid video game, while his parents urged him to get up and do something. That was the thing that kinda sucked about being at home, actually home, for a while. You were expected to do things.

 

A disgruntled Jonathan Toews sat at dinner with his parents, brother, and a few friends. He tried hard not to look at his phone, which had just buzzed in the pocket of his dress pants. He picked at the food on his plate, eliciting varied responses from his mother sitting beside him. “Jon, is everything alright?” She asked him, voice concerned. He nodded absentmindedly. Soon, the check came, and everyone started leaving, and as he exited the restaurant and was walking to his car, he pulled up Patrick's message. Jonathan waited until he was safely home in his apartment to reply.

 

He thought hard for a moment. He began typing, and soon, he had his response.

 

**Pat, I love you. all this summer, ive been thinking of you. ive been thinking of how much of a fuck up I am for not trusting you when you told me no one would care. i was wrong. I miss you like crazy. Ive been so lonely lately b/c you are my best friend, and youre currently 1400 miles away and I cant watch netflix with you or get pizza or stay up all night telling stories and drinking and laughing. I dont even know what else to say and you know im not good with my feelings or expressing them but i'll do whatever it takes to get you to be with me, whether it be us sitting in bed watching movies or us sucking each other off I honestly dont care**

 

Patrick's phone buzzed; a smile too big for his face started to form. Jonny always knew how to make him giggly like a fucking schoolgirl.

 

-

 

Everything was good.

 

Because Sharpy always noticed the hickeys that would line Patrick's collarbones. Duncs chuckled to himself when he saw Jonny intentionally pushing Patrick on the powerplay practices. No one questioned why the two of them were always all over each other. No one cared that Jonny left 'Anonymous' flowers in Patrick's stall on Valentine's Day. And still, no one bothered them when they pushed others aside to be next to each other on the bench during games. They just... _were._

 

Wherever Jonny was, Patrick was sure to be somewhere near. Whenever you'd hear Patrick crack a dumb joke, you'd always here Jonny's equally dumb laughter. They signed their contracts together, they lived together. They redefined the word together.

 

Nothing was out of place. And for them, life was pretty damn good.

 

 


End file.
